


All Is Fair in Love and War

by Maedelmae



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Chronological, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, Vietnam War, discussions of being a POW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21580330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maedelmae/pseuds/Maedelmae
Summary: Klaus landed at the foot of one David Katz's cot on the morning of March 22, 1968.He, for all intents and purposes, looks like a prisoner of war. Seeing as this is the most believeable story for his current situation, he takes the opportunity and runs with it.David Katz, however, just wants to help the poor, abused man as they grow closer and closer together.This story follows the two as they fall in love in war addled Vietnam.Will they make it out together alive? Or will they die separate on opposite ends of the earth?
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 26
Kudos: 223





	1. Prisoner of War

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all y'all. I'm back and better than ever with another W.I.P. 
> 
> This time, however, I do not intend on leaving for such a long time without updating. 
> 
> I am still debating on how long this is going to be, but we will see what we will see. 
> 
> Thank you for clicking on this, it means a lot to me that people read and enjoy my works.

**March 22, 1968**

‘He must have been a P.O.W.’

That was Dave’s first thoughts when examining the man in front of him.

His hair was sweaty and messy, his face was pale and drawn, red rings and black circles marred his eyes while cuts and bruises marred his temples. A red band made its way around his neck. His chest was bare and thin as long deep cuts bled heavily down his damp collarbones. He wasn’t wearing clothes or shoes, just a scrap of fabric wrapped loosely around his waist, too dirty to be considered white anymore.

The next thing he noticed was how confused he was. Then he noticed how green his eyes were.

He had to blink a few times to right himself, still dizzy with sleep. He didn’t know who the man was or where he came from, but he did know that they needed to get to a medical tent before the man collapsed or fell victim to infection. He sat up straighter and was about to say something to the man when the bombs started falling outside.

Suddenly everyone was awake and he was jamming his feet into the ill-fitting boots stationed next to his bed. A helmet was placed on his head, and when he next looked over, someone was forcing the stranger into a pair of ill fitting pants, jamming a helmet onto his still bleeding head. Dave winced at the harsh treatment, but there was no time for any questions. His gun was in hand and the next thing he knew, they were fighting on the front lines.

.oOo.

After the fight, they were jammed on a bus. Groans were stifled as men threw themselves down on the brown, leathery seats that stuck to any bare skin and provided little cushion to their tired, aching bodies. However, Dave could argue that any moment of reprieve, any moment of rest, was better than none at all. So he happily plopped down in his seat and shut his eyes as he forced his muscles to relax.

He opened his eyes at the frantic whispering coming from behind him. He craned his neck and winced as the muscle pulled, but wasn’t sorry as he was met with the man who he had seen hours prior. He did not look any better.

His eyes were wild, shocked. The bleeding from his wounds had stopped but he was still caked in his own blood, though it was now joined by a copious amount of mud--no doubt causing an infection.

“So, uh, you just get into the country?” He had no doubt that his mouth wanted to kill him, obviously he was not alright. What kind of question was that anyway? He was frankly disappointed in himself.

“Oh, uh… yeah?” The man grinned, his eyes squinting.

“Yeah, shit’s crazy…” They both smiled, but Dave felt as though the other man were just humoring him and his terrible points of conversation.

“Yeah…”

“You’ll adjust” The other man attempted to nod, but winced and just smiled instead. Dave felt his heart clench, he hoped to get to the next base soon so he could escort the man into the medic tent.

Speaking of which, he couldn’t keep referring to the guy as “the man” or “the P.O.W” in his head--it was disrespectful.

“I’m Dave” He held out his hand.

“Klaus” The man placed his own hand in his. Dave could feel how boney and calloused Klaus’ hands were, just how thin the skin seemed. He grew even more worried. How long had Klaus been captured?

The conversation petered off, Dave silently worrying, and Klaus spacing off and mumbling under his breath. Dave figured it might have been something he had started to cope with being a prisoner of war. He had met a couple in passing, and they always had a quirk they explained away with their time behind enemy lines. He wouldn't begrudge them of their oddities. He doubts he would have the strength to survive, let alone make it back.

.oOo.

**March 23, 1968**

Dave had escorted Klaus to the medic as soon as the bus rolled to a stop at their next camp.

In the daylight, and without the fatigues, Klaus looked even worse than he did the first time Dave saw him. The medic, obviously someone just shipped in, winced as he cut away the shirt sticking to the bloody wounds on his skinny chest. And he really was skinny. Dave could count his ribs and spine from behind Klaus’ back, which wasn’t a good indication of a healthy weight.

“So, how long?” The medic asked and Klaus winced.

“How-How long?”

“Yeah, how long were you captured?” Another wince, though Dave couldn’t tell if it was from the line of questioning or the stitches closing the gaping wounds on his thin chest.

“I don’t- I don’t remember.”

“That’s fine, not a lot do. Do you know the date?” A shake of the head was his response.

“March 23, 1968.” A rattling inhale.

Dave felt sorry, Klaus must have been captured for far longer than he realized. He wanted to comfort the other man. But all he could do was stand there and watch as the seemingly small man grew smaller in his seat.

“Where are your tags? Paperwork? I need to file this.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know, taken, or lost… Destroyed somewhere.” There was a long pause, “The, uhh, the camp was, uh, burned down when they captured us-me.” The medic clicked his tongue, sucked on his teeth, and then stood up from where he was kneeling and stitching.

“Looks like we’ll have to file some new paperwork. That will be bothersome.” Klaus winced again and Dave grew angry at the insensitive, inexperienced doctor.

The doctor turned to Dave and made a shooing motion.

“You can leave now, you escorted him here, your job is done.”

“Actually, can he…can he stay?” The doctor stared at Klaus, then turned back to Dave, then sighed and looked affronted.

“I guess, but the questions I need to ask to fill out your paperwork will be personal. Are you sure?” He got a nod in response. The doctor sighed again before walking to the far end of the tent and rooting around before coming back with a pen and a clipboard.

“Name?”

“Klaus Hargreeves.”

“Any family members?”

“None.” “Any allergies?”

“Nope.”

“I need a medical history.”

“Let’s see, um. I’ve gotten pneumonia, bronchitis, a broken jaw. Broken my left and right arm 4 and 5 times, respectively. Almost died of scarlet fever…” Klaus looked down, brow furrowed in thought as the doctor and Dave stared at him in horror and despair. “I’ve been stabbed and shot, and before coming here, I um, I was, uh, homeless.”

That got both of their attention, but no one dared say anything. The doctor resumed writing down the answers and looked back up.

“Do you have any next of kin? They need someone on record in case you die.” Dave and Klaus both jumped at the callous question.

“No, no next of kin.”

“Got it.”

“Birth date?”

“October 1, 19...38.”

“Blood type?”

“O negative.”

“When was the last time you got the tetanus toxoid vaccine?”

“I was seventeen so, hmm, 19...55?”

“Social Security Number?”

“Don’t think I have one, I was an abandoned orphan.”

Dave’s heart pumped painfully in his chest, he wanted to wrap Klaus up and protect him. Take him away from the front lines and back home to his family in Missouri.

“That’s gonna be a problem… hmm, religious affiliation?”

“Uh, N/A.”

“Alright, we should be done. Wait here for a couple of days so we can catch any infection. Your new dog tags should be ready by then”

The doctor left and Klaus pat the spot on the cot next to him, silently asking for him to sit down.

He sat quietly and pat Klaus’ knee in an attempt to show the other man that he did care for him, no matter how soon it was they had just met, nevermind they didn’t know each other that well (Dave’s mind graciously supplied him with the fact that Klaus asked him to stay for the intensely personal questioning, and that he did know more about Klaus now).

“So, Dave, now that you know me so well, I think it only right I know more about you.”

Dave looked over and saw Klaus grinning and swore he would keep that grin on that beautiful face.

“Alright then…”

.oOo.

**April 7, 1968**

Klaus ended up staying in the medical tent for one week. The people who had imprisoned him had also drugged him and he was currently going through withdrawals. On top of that, his untreated concussion and swollen larynx proved more problematic than aforethought. His breaths had grown wheezy and a fever developed alongside dizziness and nausea. Infection had set in and Dave grew worried.

Monsoon season had just begun and everything was flooded. They weren’t well supplied enough to take care of any injury or malady--not to mention that asshole of a doctor was still in residence, seldom coming by Klaus’ cot. Dave stayed instead, using what instincts he had regarding medical treatment to care for his new friend.

When the week came to a close and Klaus was now better, a low ranking officer swung by and delivered Klaus his new dog tags.

HARGREEVES

KLAUS

RA9846127

O NEG SSN:N/A

PROTESTANT

Dave thought it was rather underhanded to assign him a religion when Klaus had before stated he was not religious. Dave would have raised a fuss if someone had written anything other than Jewish on his tags.

He helps Klaus sit up and puts the dog tags around the other man’s neck and tries to misunderstand the meaningful look they share.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Klaus' POV on the POW
> 
> Part 2: Dave and Klaus get close
> 
> Part 3: The eve before tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'ello. 
> 
> I decided I'm going to post weekly on Tuesdays. Be there or be square. 
> 
> This story, as stated in the tags is not in chronological order so it's important to look at the dates or else y'all might get confused. 
> 
> Also, to everyone who commented, kudosed, subscribed, and bookmarked, Love ya!
> 
> This AU didn't originally start with the idea of Klaus being a POW, this was something I added in later, the real twist (which I've decided to keep a secret), is coming in the next chapter. So keep on the look out because I hint at it in this chapter.

.oOo.

**March 30, 1968**

When Klaus first landed in Vietnam, he was confused, disoriented. He had no clue where in the fuck he was or how in the fuck he had gotten there, but he knew that if he didn’t find some excuse, something bad was going to happen. He could feel it in his gut. His instincts--which before had kept him alive throughout several years of homelessness--had started going off around the same time the bombs started going off. 

His head hurt, his body hurt, he felt too cold, he felt too hot. He felt nauseated. He was now wearing pants, and boots, and a helmet. A gun was placed in his hands. He fought. 

Now though, after all of the lies he had already given, he couldn’t turn back. 

He was now officially Klaus Hargreeves, Abandoned Orphan, Prisoner of War. 

He had read about prisoners of war in books before, fascinated by not just the politics of the start of the war, but the subtle manipulations done by both, no, all three sides involved, (he couldn’t _not_ include the French participants). 

In one of the books, it read: 

_“Members of the United States armed forces were held as prisoners of war (POWs) in significant numbers during the Vietnam War from 1964 to 1973. Unlike U.S. service members captured in World War II and the Korean War, who were mostly enlisted troops, the overwhelming majority of Vietnam-era POWs were officers, most of them Navy, Air Force, and Marine Corps airmen; a relatively small number of Army enlisted personnel were also captured, as well as one enlisted Navy seaman who fell overboard from a naval vessel. Most U.S. prisoners were captured and held in North Vietnam by the North Vietnamese Army; a much smaller number were captured in the south and held by the National Liberation Front (Việt Cộng). A handful of U.S. civilians were also held captive during the war._

_Thirteen prisons and prison camps were used to house U.S. prisoners in North Vietnam, the most widely known of which was Hỏa Lò Prison (nicknamed the "Hanoi Hilton"). The treatment and ultimate fate of U.S. prisoners of war in Vietnam became a subject of widespread concern in the United States, and hundreds of thousands of Americans wore POW bracelets with the name and capture date of imprisoned U.S. service members.”_

There were holes in his story, but there were always going to be. For instance, he didn’t come from a camp that was captured and burned down, he wasn’t an officer (he could maybe get away with that) or any type of military for that matter, and any paperwork that he could have had wouldn’t have been at the camp that “burned down”.

But never mind all that. He could fake a POW bracelet, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t tortured, or held captive for days on end before. And he was technically an orphan. The only thing he really lied about were the dates and his lack of family. Everything else was assumed. 

So he would let them believe it, go along with it. 

For now, he would continue on this path he found himself on, with the very handsome soldier who seemed to like him. David Katz, Klaus could only hope something would grow between them. 

.oOo.

**June 12, 1968**

  
It’s two months later and they’ve been to the front lines twice now since Klaus landed next to his bed. 

The other man had been doing better. Sure there were the nightmares and the panicked mumblings late at night, but with a few numbers everything became copacetic. Though, a few numbers made everything okay after a while, Dave had found out after several weeks of trying to stay straight through the most traumatic period of his life.

Dave had been in Vietnam for close to a year already, but had yet to make friends out of anybody in his unit. He seldom talked to the others, afraid that if he tried getting close to anybody they would either die or find out he was a _homosexual_. Now though, Dave can’t find a reason not to like or hang around Klaus. The man has fighting experience, faster with a gun than even the sergeant. He knows where to step to avoid the mines laid haphazardly and indiscriminately around the jungle floor. 

Another thing is that Klaus has told Dave that he was gay. He doesn’t need to worry about being outed by Klaus or abandoned by his friend because of his homosexuality. And, if he is being honest, it’s refreshing not having to hide who he is all the time. He had talked with Klaus about the first guy he got a crush on, or the first guy he ever kissed. 

This was the topic of conversation that evening as the two went on patrol together. The stars hidden behind the thick canopies of the spotty jungle. When the stars managed to shine through, however, it was breathtaking with the lack of city lights. 

“I was starting to notice these things about men largely when I was 16, the way their hips moved when they hauled feed, checked fence lines, the way their forearms looked so tanned and hard when they rolled up their white sleeves. I was looking at men, not with intentions, because I didn’t know what I would have done with one yet if I got him, but with a studious mind.” Klaus nodded and linked arms with him as they walked slowly in tandem. He lit a number and took a couple of hits before passing it to Dave, blowing out his smoke in the shape of rings.  
“I grew up in the city. It was loud and crowded, and I wasn’t allowed out much, so I couldn’t admire strong men like that until I was old enough to sneak out and into the clubs. But I think I knew of my inclinations towards the same sex when I was younger than that. The other orphans never quite got me, didn’t understand my proclivity towards anything they deemed out of sorts.”

Dave grew bolder in the dark of night and wrapped an arm around Klaus, though they both remained silent and did not mention the close contact. He took a hit of the cigarette and passed it back. 

Dave didn’t look too deep into it when Klaus leaned in closer as they walked about. 

The game of cat and mouse had started during the infirmary stay and continued on, seldom discussed, but present nonetheless. 

“I think I knew when I was younger too, before my studying of men. All of my classmates had started talking about girls back in second grade, but I couldn’t join in. Instead, I was thinking about how handsome Joel was. He was my first crush. Hmmm, I think he moved away though in fourth grade, before any of my feelings developed beyond a crush.”   
“Hmm, I didn’t go to a traditional school, we were all taught at the academy. All the children there were like brothers and sisters to me, so that would’ve been weird.” Klaus stuck out his tongue, visible only in the far off light of the moon and the fires. “I think my first crush though, was Oscar Wilde. Ahh, I used to stare at his picture in the back of the books in the library. I read all of his books several times, even though I usually hated reading.” They both laughed at that. 

The refreshing nostalgia of their childhood memories and the relaxing effect of the grass rejuvenated Dave and momentarily helped him forget that they were in the war torn country of Vietnam, fighting for a cause that wasn’t even true. The men dying were dying for nothing. There were no heroes in war, only the living and the dying. 

.oOo.

**January 27, 1969**

  
One night, they were all gathered around the lantern in the big tent they all slept in. The entirety of the unit was there. There weren’t enough of them to take up enough space to warrant laying out in the bug infested mud. There were only about seven people there, including Dave and Klaus. 

It had been ten months since Klaus joined, and Dave was grateful they had managed to stay together that long. 

The mood that evening was somber, and Dave could feel Klaus was wound up from the earlier fighting, as were the other soldiers. The gathering had started off silent, but then one of the guys, Charlie had to start talking. 

“At least we’re still around. I don’t know what I’d do if I died out there. Those dead bastards never knew what hit ‘em. Buncha sons a bitches if you ask me.” 

The silence grew heavier, tangible. Dave could see beads of sweat popping up on the brow of the silence breaker. The rotten taste from the earlier eaten MRE made a recurrence and Dave was left to chew on that bad taste as everyone looked around trying to discern who was going to break this thickened silence. 

From beside him, he could feel Klaus shift and closed his eyes, praying that he wasn’t going to be the one to say anything. 

“The stars are the eyes of God.” The thin man started. He commanded the rooms attention. Nobody besides Dave had talked with Klaus this in depth before. “The stars are the eyes of God and they have been watching us from the beginning of the Earth, the beginning of Time.” Dave took a deep breath, hoping this wasn’t going to be some weird cult-y spiel about how god was watching over them all. He thought he knew Klaus deeply, intimately, but never before had they discussed their relationships with religion beyond the dog tag debacle that took place over ten months prior. The earlier look in Klaus’ eyes had changed and now it looked as though he was staring right through everybody, like he was a prophet. 

“Do you think there isn’t an eye for each of us? Go on and count. Go on and look, like if you did somehow you’d grasp the meaning of what you held. You can’t. The understanding is in you or it isn’t. You can hide from the stars by daylight but at night, under all of them, so many, you are pierced by the sight and by the vision.” The thin man was breathing heavy, all his energy going into his speech.

“For all that God may be watching though, I will never call on her. When is God going to be on my side, or on the sides of the men who are left roaming restlessly in the afterlife? For all that she may be watching, she sure isn't doing anything. No, I believe it is fun for her to watch us fight these pointless battles, killing more and more men, innocent or not. This is a game and based on where I am, I’m certainly not winning.” 

Klaus stood up, silence ringing loudly through the stifling, humid air. He pointed at poor, condemned Charlie and Dave watched, in a trance as Klaus started speaking again. 

“Do not act as if you were going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over you. While you live, while it is in your power… It is as natural to die as to be born.” A deep breath and Klaus dropped his hand and clutched at his dog tags. “Tomorrow I die.” Dave inhaled sharply, scared of Klaus’ next words, frightened of the future. “Tomorrow I die. When that happens, then I shall face god and walk backwards into hell. Today, this very night. I want the world to know what happened and thus perhaps free my soul from the horrible weight which lies upon it.” 

With his speech ended, Klaus fell down into his seat, like a marionette whose strings were snapped. Silence pervaded the air once more. Charlie, who had unknowingly stepped on an activated landmine, or perhaps did not notice the live grenade, was now sitting dumbly with tears springing up in his dimly lit eyes. 

.oOo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thing, I don't know the canon dates of Klaus' occupancy in Vietnam so we're going off the books babey. 
> 
> Additionally there is some 60's slang in the text. For instance at the beginning of part 2 when Dave explained he was trying to "stay straight" that means staying sober--people in the 60's never used the term "sober". Number refers to a joint--that one is a little harder to figure out the meaning of. 
> 
> The passage I got about the POW's that Klaus quotes is gotten from Wikipedia because even if my teachers say it ain't so, I think it is the best thing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Klaus' rousing speech, Dave feels uneasy about what is to come. That begs the question, is anything about to happen? or was Klaus speech a moment of moonlighted madness?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three babey. 
> 
> I almost forgot to post this because I forgot it was Tuesday. I'm back though and with the end of the cliff hanger. 
> 
> I still have more chapters so this shouldn't be put on hiatus any time soon (if at all). 
> 
> have fun reading and thanks for clicking.

**January 28, 1969**

  
It was the next day. 

With Klaus’ earlier speech ringing in their ears, the 173rd unit marched back on to the front lines. 

None dared talk as they heard the nearing rapid fire of the Viet Cong. The shouting and screaming, and the acrid smoke of the far off, burning napalm that perpetually was alight these days. Dave readied his gun, watching as Klaus did the same in front of him. Better safe than sorry. He didn’t think twice about the black briefcase in Klaus’ other hand. 

It was right in front of them now. The gunfire, the muddy trenches, Dave wasn’t ready for it. He was haunted by the implications of Klaus’ speech. What if the men he killed here never made it to the afterlife? What if he was rejected by his God for his crimes? Dave knew when he first got drafted, that he wouldn’t be able to observe Shabbat, or go and pray, or celebrate any of the holidays he grew up celebrating. When he was first confronted with this realization, he was fine with it. He was orthodox, but was comfortable enough in his believe in God he thought he would be fine. Now, however, he felt nauseated by his lack of faith. He didn’t observe sabbath, nor did he keep kosher, he was gay, he got a tattoo. (He couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at the last two facts). 

The gunfire in front of him felt like a noose tightening around his neck. And who knows, maybe Klaus would be right and they all die in this firefight. 

So Dave gripped his gun and opened fire, the recoil momentarily stopping his mad dash for the raised mud cover he was trained to always hide behind. Klaus found his way next to him and together they fought in silence accompanied by the blasting of bullets. 

It was hard to shoot targets you couldn’t see, but Dave and Klaus managed to do their job. Klaus was of course a better fighter than Dave. He was able to fully lose himself in the moment and make every bullet count. A grenade landed mere feet away from them and exploded, momentarily shocking both Klaus and Dave. 

Klaus turned to Dave and smiled.   
“Christ on a-” 

Klaus, loud mouthed, beautiful Klaus, was cut off by two bullets ripping through his thin body. Red blossomed on his right shoulder and his left leg. Dave reached out, intent to catch the injured man from his fall off of the mud mound they were propped behind. He had placed his hands on the wounds, applying pressure and trying to keep the love of his life from dying when he felt pain blossom in his right hip.

He too had been shot. 

‘Tomorrow I die,’ Klaus had said. Dave thought that maybe perhaps Klaus knew this was going to happen. He couldn’t bear the thought any longer. He couldn’t bear any thoughts any longer. His vision grew darker and his skin colder. His thoughts grew jumbled and messy. 

“Klau...s…” 

He fell down, sprawling over Klaus’ bleeding form, unconscious. 

.oOo.

**November 5, 1968**

It was their first time in that part of the city. 

Dave had been put on reserve before, allowed to traipse through the busy, often overcrowded streets of Hanoi. This was, however, his first time in Saigon. His first impression was that it was much busier. Much more crowded. Much more political. Everything felt heightened when compared to their skin and bones camp in the middle of fuck-all nowhere in the fields and jungles of wild south Vietnam. 

Klaus, however, was much more alive in the city. Flitting around from food cart to market booth, Klaus looked like he belonged. His dark hair had grown out and his skin had grown tanner in the unforgiving sun. He looked healthier too, especially compared to his arrival as a freshly free prisoner of war. 

Dave had yet to ask Klaus about it, feeling as though it wasn’t any of his business to know. If Klaus wanted to tell him, he would. 

Back in the present however, Klaus was telling Dave to join him as he entered a sketchy looking tattoo parlour advertising low prices in vietnamese. 

A bell rang above the, as Klaus swung the door open flamboyantly. A lady was steadily giving an older man a tattoo on his tricep. Both were incredibly still, even after the bell’s interruption. 

Klaus approached the counter where another women sat reading a newspaper.   
“Xin chào hôm nay bạn thế nào?” The lady at the counter looked Klaus up and down as Dave did the same. Since when did Klaus know vietnamese?  
“Tôi khỏe, còn bạn?"  
“Tốt tốt” Klaus bit his thumb nail as he looked at the portfolio that was open on the counter. “Đây có phải tất cả của bạn không?" The lady nodded.

Dave had yet to ask Klaus what he was saying, but he didn’t get the chance to ask when his companion suddenly turned to him. 

“Do you want one too?”   
“Uh, one what?”  
“A tattoo, silly. Why do you think we’re here. I want to add to my collection.” He waved around his hands, showing off the bold “hello goodbye” written on his palms, and while Dave could see the umbrella tattoo on his tricep, Klaus had mentioned hating that tattoo, so thought it better not to mention it. 

Dave had to think about it for a minute. Before he joined the war, he had been Orthodox Jewish. In Judaism, there was a law against tattoos. However, he had not been an active member in a while. If he died in this war, would it really matter if he got a tattoo? He was already breaking taboo by being homosexual, what’s another knot in the cross?

Dave nodded. “A tattoo would be fun, what are you thinking?”  
“Hmm, something that’s personal to us. I want matching tattoos, maybe a second tattoo with our unit number and nickname on it. That would be cool, and maybe even a skull. That would be badass.” Dave nodded again. He liked the idea of matching tattoos. 

They had decided to label themselves as “together” but aside from a quick kiss away from prying eyes, there was nothing that clearly stated they belonged to each other. It was necessary, but it made Dave sad.   
“Could we have the matching tattoos somewhere not too visible? I don’t want people to get ideas and then take it up to the higher officers. We could get dishonorably discharged, or one of the other guys could cause an accident and we die. I can’t have that happen when I just met the love of my life.”   
Klaus’ eyes widened and nodded.   
“Good thinking, babe. I totally wasn’t thinking. I love you.”   
“Love you too, spooky.”

Klaus flicked through the book, admiring the reference portfolio. Dave looked on from over the other man’s shoulders. The women who drew these was obviously very talented. Dave was glad Klaus chose this place and felt bad about his earlier assessment of the establishment. 

The two decided to get matching tigers on their backs. Klaus’ tiger would be wrapped around a blue iris and purple lilac standing for faith, hope and first love. Dave’s tiger would be wrapped around a gardenia and orange lily standing for joy, secret love, and passion. 

Klaus described to the woman what the two wanted as Dave stood awkwardly next to him, not able to understand a lick of what his Love was saying. 

Dave went first, mostly because Klaus was getting two tattoos whilst Dave was only getting one. Dave had only ever considered getting a tattoo once before. It would have been on his left ankle and it would have featured a simple circle tied with a string to represent the earth being tied together through good, willful acts of humanity. It was a sappy idea, but he would have liked having the reminder when the world felt like there was nothing but bad in it. 

When he was done in the chair, the lady smeared a thick paste to the area and wrapped his chest with clean bandages. He sat backwards in a chair and propped his head on both of his hands as he watched Klaus talk to the lady in vietnamese as more and more of the tattoo came to life. 

The tiger was magnificent, its fangs long and sharp. Its eyes were fierce. However, the tale wrapped around the two delicate flowers made the picture softer. Two more flowers bloomed next to the tiger’s neck. When Dave looked closer and saw that they were the same two flowers as the ones he picked out he almost teared up in love. 

The lady pasted and wrapped up the fresh tattoo before starting in on the second tattoo that was on Klaus’ left bicep. It proudly displayed the unit number and name above a skull with a gun and more flowers behind it. This tattoo, unlike the tiger tattoo, was in black and white. 

The lady finished up and wrapped the tattoo before Klaus paid for the tattoos. Dave watched as Klaus tipped generously, briefly wondering where he got all the money from before deciding it wasn’t important. 

The two left the parlour, traipsing back to their hotel room where they collapsed on the queen sized bed together on their stomachs, groaning as the freshly tattooed skin felt hot and tight with the sudden movement. 

The two looked at each other and laughed. 

.oOo.

**March 29, 2019**

The siblings were in a panic. 

The apocalypse was going to happen in two days and everybody was running around like chickens with their heads cut off, or at least they were in Five’s opinion. Vanya was missing with her manipulative, homicidal boyfriend. The same boyfriend that Five needed to kill to avert the apocalypse. 

They were crowded into the kitchen for some reason. Diego and Luther were still fighting, Five overheard something about the moon and tuned it out in favor of something more productive. Allison was debating between going home to her daughter, or staying to help Vanya. Five couldn’t care less, but he was feeling like he was missing something, or someone. Some of the equations were off, when before they weren’t. 

Something had changed. 

“Hey guys, get your heads out of your asses and come here.” Everyone went quiet and walked over, knowing at this point that Five was their best bet at staying alive throughout the ordeal.   
“What’s up?” Diego asked.  
“Something’s missing and I can't wrap my head around it. What is different right now compared to three days ago?”  
The Luther, Diego, Allison, and Five all sat in contemplative silence. 

“Well, Vanya isn’t here,” Luther supplied.  
“Well, yeah no shit. We already knew that.”  
“Well if it’s somebody, we should take a tally of everybody and whoever we don’t have is the one missing from the equation,” Allison announced, a satisfied smile on her face.  
Diego scrunched up his face before speaking. “There are seven of us. Me, Luther, Allison, Five, Vanya, Ben doesn’t count...” Diego stared up at the ceiling, most likely wracking his brain for answers. “Oh my god, we forgot Klaus.”

“Klaus!”  
“I can’t believe we forgot.”  
“It’s kind of hard not to forget when he keeps disappearing.”  
“Shut up, when was the last time anybody saw him?”   
“...”  
“You don’t remember?”  
“Well you don’t either!”  
“I haven’t been here, so cut me some slack...fuck.”  
“Language!”  
“When. Was. The. Last. Time. Anybody. Saw. Klaus?” Five’s teeth ached with how hard he was gritting them.   
“I think it was at the meeting where we were deciding whether or not we should turn mom off. It didn’t matter though since those assassins took her out anyway.”

“So you guys are saying that Klaus hasn’t been seen since the attack?”  
“Yeah, pretty much.”  
“And this doesn’t bother you?”  
“He is probably out getting drugs right now like he usually does.” 

Five blinked into Klaus’ room, where he found all of Klaus’ clothes, his jacket, and his shoes. He blinked back to his siblings.   
“He is in fact not out getting drugs, unless he was doing so without clothes, shoes, or his jacket.” This made the others look uncomfortable. “Klaus must have been taken by Hazel and Cha-Cha. Meaning, he is now dead. I will write him out of the equation.” 

That got some strong protest.   
“What do you mean Klaus is dead?”  
“How could you be so callous? He is your brother and he obviously needs help!”  
“So you mean he isn’t out getting high right now?”  
“Of course he isn’t getting high, you just heard Five say that he’s dead.”

“Excuse me, I believe I need to explain some things. You three obviously can’t grasp simple concepts so I will say them in Layman's terms. Hazel and Cha-Cha are the two best assassins of the Commision besides me. They were sent here to stop me from stopping the apocalypse--which is in two days so we need to speed things up. They were looking for me when they stormed and attacked the academy. They obviously didn’t find me, and instead took Klaus--though why he doesn’t have his clothes is beyond me. They tortured Klaus for information and then killed him when he didn’t have any. Ipso Facto, Klaus is dead. It’s been like what, three days since the attack? Either Klaus is still getting tortured or he is dead somewhere where we will never find the body. So there isn’t any real point in looking.”  
“If there is a chance he is still alive, we should take it. Even if he is dead, we need to find his body to put it to rest where it belongs. Not rotting under some bridge somewhere, or in a ditch.” Allison wiped a few tears from her eyes. 

Five could only sigh. He supposed it was his fault, in a roundabout way, so he should help them. Even if it means he has to work super hard afterward to prevent the world from ending.   
“Fine, but we are only looking today.”  
“At least we’re looking.”  
“Somebody should call Vanya and tell her what’s going on. She’s as much a member of this family as any of us.”  
“Yeah, well she is MIA too.”  
“Allison should call her and leave a message at least.”

.oOo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus has been shot, Dave has been shot. The siblings are searching for Vanya and Klaus, but how can they find Klaus when he is stuck in another time period? Find out on this weeks episode of "All is Fair in Love and War".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is finals week, buckaroos. 
> 
> If you are taking your finals and see this, you deserve this little break and I'm glad you decided to spend it here. Good luck, you're gonna do great. 
> 
> Next week is the holidays for some, but that won't mess up the upload schedule, so expect the next chapter around this time in a week.

.oOo.

**November 7, 1968**

Their tattoos had still been healing when they walked into the small clothes shop. Still on leave, Dave and Klaus had split their time between their hotel room and different shops and restaurants. 

The hole in the wall clothes store featured all handmade items that were in style. Dave enjoyed looking around the little shop and trying on clothes. Klaus was also having a great time, flitting from long dresses to short shirts and long cigarette pants. 

“Davey, Baby, look at this áo dài! It’s perfect.” The other man held up a long red dress with slits down either side and a high collar. It was a gorgeous dress, but he knew Klaus would never get away with wearing it. He could get killed for even thinking about it. 

“It’s really pretty, Doll face.” Klaus smiled widely, putting the dress back knowingly. Dave wrapped an arm around the thinner man’s shoulders and looked around before kissing his temple. “You would look good in anything though. You are so pretty, so lovely.”

“Stop it Dave!” Klaus giggled, overwhelmed by the compliments. 

The two walked around some more, finding more and more outfits they wanted to buy. Klaus had grabbed a pair of high waisted brown cigarette pants and a short sleeve yellow shirt that was vertically striped and cropped. Dave had settled on a similar shirt, though instead it was a baby blue solid print paired with a lighter pair of brown pants that had a paper bag waist. 

With their perfect outfits picked out, they paid the man at the counter and changed. They dropped their stuff at the hotel and hit the clubs. 

The warm weather was clinging to Dave’s skin and his mouth tasted of the dumplings he and Klaus had shared a few hours earlier at a street vendor’s cart. The heavy scent of rain hung in the air and permeated his nose. Klaus’ hair had curled even more in the humidity and Dave was jealous as his hair grew frizzier instead. 

They held hands content in the knowledge that in this part of town, anything went. The club was one that Klaus had picked out. Dave was never one for clubs or dancing, but he would do anything with Klaus. 

They went to the bar and had a couple of beers before hitting the dance floor. 

  
  


Dave couldn’t tell anyone what music was playing that night. He was lost to the warmth in his abdomen, the comforting burn of the alcohol, the cozy loving warmth of being with Klaus, the heady adrenaline of flailing around the dance floor. He didn’t care if he looked stupid dancing out on that wooden floor, he didn’t care if anybody stared weirdly at him. He locked eyes with Klaus, lost in those big brown doe-like eyes of his. 

He looked around the bar to see if anybody was staring overtly at them. Dave wanted to dance with Klaus. 

“This club welcomes gays, babe,” Klaus whispered in his ear, making Dave jump. He laughed in response. 

“So does that mean I can do… this?” He wrapped an arm around Klaus and dragged him behind a bead curtain. 

They were silent as they lost themselves in each other. 

“I love you, Klaus. Forever and Always, Spook.”

“I love you too, Davey. Forever and Always.”

.oOo.

**January 28, 1969**

Klaus was drifting in and out of consciousness. One second he was looking at his beloved, and the next, he felt two blooming spots of pain. He felt cold, and crushed. 

He opened his eyes to see Dave’s face right next to his. Klaus tried to lift up his right arm, but he couldn’t; the limb was both numb and painful at the same time. He tried again with his left arm and managed to barely lift it. His arm flopped towards the black suitcase he had brought with him. 

Last night, when Charlie had made that Dumb-ass remark, Klaus had felt possessed. He truly was not in control of his words then, and he had never experienced that before. It was terrifying. 

‘Tomorrow I die. Tomorrow I die. Tomorrow I die.’ 

It had been a litany in his head after the spirit left him. On repeat, never ending. He didn’t go to sleep that night. Instead, he chose to watch Dave sleep from the cot next to him as he tried to figure out if he should wake Dave up and leave right now to go back to the future. 

But the cards were not in his favor as the sun broke over the horizon and the wake up call blared to life, shocking all of the sleeping soldiers awake. Klaus did not have to think twice before grabbing the black suitcase as they geared up for another stint on the front lines. 

Everyone was silent as they marched. 

One two. One two. Klaus counted his steps towards what could possibly be his death. As the condemned marched to their executioner, so should Klaus walk to his. A stone fell into his stomach. He felt nauseated. He had to do this. There was no getting out, there was no turning back. 

.oOo.

Bullets whizzed past his head as he steadily shot, hitting every single one of his targets. He hated killing. He hated he was so good at it. Why should he be allowed to take away the life of these teenagers? Did they not deserve a life away from all of this? Were they not allowed to be free from this war that ravaged and took so much? 

Klaus had read about the Vietnam war, even read outside of lessons about it. It fascinated him that there were so many willing to fight for a cause they didn’t believe in. He knows now. There was no cause, but he killed to survive. The one’s in power were the ones who had no purpose, they were the ones that made the american soldiers come and fight. He hated it, he hated it he hated it, he hated it. 

He hated it. 

The rage of it all burned and brewed and boiled within him. He was angry. He was mad. He was livid. 

Bullets continued to miss him. 

A grenade went off not too far away. Far enough that he wasn’t caught in the fire or the shrapnel, but close enough to confuse him. 

“Christ on a-” cracker. 

He was shot. He had been shot. He looked over at beautiful, loving, caring Dave. He was shot too. 

‘Now you both are going to die.’ A voice said in his head. They were both going to die. 

He collapsed.

.oOo.

The black suitcase. The single cause for not only his current misery, but the cause of all the good and joy in his life. The object was solely responsible for uniting Klaus with his soulmate. He loved it. He hated it. 

He grabbed it, finally. Dave’s (dead) weight was weighing down upon him in a gruesome embrace. Klaus let out tears of sorrow and desperation as he unclasped first one side and then the other. He wrapped his good leg around Dave’s waist and flipped the lid, getting swallowed up in the painfully bright blue light. 

.oOo.

**March 29, 2019**

Five was at his wits end (granted his wits had never had any patience to begin with). They had been searching all around town for nothing! There was nothing, no trace of Klaus anywhere in any inch of that god forsaken city. 

He sat on the stairs in front of the academy and waited for Diego and Luther to come back. Allison was inside, though Five didn’t know why (some small part of him hoped she was mixing cocktails for them all to sip on while brainstorming). 

Diego came running up while Five was lost in his thoughts. 

“Five. Five!”

“What, asshole? You find something?” Diego nodded frantically, his breath coming in short bursts from the dash across town. 

“It’s… It’s bad. Come quick.”

“Just tell me where he is, I’ll jump there and bring him back to mom if it’s ‘so bad’.” Diego nodded once more. 

“It’s the bus stop at 41st and 11th.” 

.oOo.

When Five finished the jump, he was not prepared for the sight in front of him. There was so much blood. He had been around blood before, but it was so unexpected on this sunny day at a public bus stop downtown.

Luther was standing there, shell shocked as two soldiers in front of him lay unconscious and bleeding out. 

“What are you standing there for?! Help me lift the guy on top. I’ll jump ‘em to mom, but I can only do one at a time.” 

“Got it. Got it. Yeah.” 

Five did not recognize the man Luther picked up first. He was tall, taller than Klaus. And he had dirty blonde hair (though whether the dirt was from whatever war zone they were from or not, Five didn’t know). He jumped with the man in his arms and laid him down in the closest infirmary bed, taking care that he would not roll off before jumping back to take Klaus. 

His brother looked like he was in an even worse condition than the stranger, bleeding from two points instead of one. He looked up at Luther, who was clearly confused and made an attempt to grab Klaus. 

Attempt being the keyword. 

Luther stubbornly held Klaus’ limp, bleeding body above Five’s thirteen year old grasp. 

“What are you doing, are you a fucking idiot?” 

“What is happening? Why is Klaus hurt like this? Who was that other guy?”

“Hand him over, and when they are awake we can thoroughly question them. How about that big guy?” 

“What if Klaus doesn’t wake up though, what are you going to do then?”

“Well he isn’t going to wake up if you won’t let me help. He is bleeding to death in your stupid, fat, monkey arms right now, so hand him over before I really start to lose my already lost temper!”

Wide eyed, Luther carefully handed the skinnier man to his appearance-wise younger brother. 

Five took great caution in not jostling the man too hard as he jumped into a cloud of blue and deposited him on the other infirmary bed. 

“Allison! Allison!” It took a second for a response (though considering how big a house it was, that was a miracle).

“What do you want?”

“Get your ass down to the infirmary now, and bring mom!”

.oOo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, eh? What do you think?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who was Dave before the war?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long period of nothing, I present to you a chapter. I will also be updating tomorrow as an apology for taking so long. I fall in and out of interest with almost everything, and I'm dumb for thinking I'd stick with this consistently. I have a rough vision of where I'm wanting this to head, so it will definitely be finished, even if its later rather than sooner. 
> 
> Additionally, I took some inspiration for some of this chapter from a book I'm reading called "Blood Meridian" by Cormac McCarthy if you are interested in the wild west and historical events that took place in the 1850's.

**May 29, 1957**

It was Dave’s nineteenth birthday. 

The sun was bright and hot in the sky and the clouds were wispy and faint. The air was heavy and humid, but that made the pool even better. His siblings and cousins shrieked as they ran around jumping in the cool water. The adults--his parents and aunts and uncles, were all sat around gossiping with cold beers, iced tea, and the grill smoking away next to them. 

He didn’t feel like he was nineteen. He felt simultaneously too old and too young. He was never close with his younger siblings and his older brother died when Dave was four. His parents were loving but distant and seemed to like his younger brother and two sisters better than they liked him. 

Dave sighed and drifted on the surface of the water, sunglasses propped on his face and water flooding into his ears. When his skin finally felt like it was burning off of his body, he submerged in the water before getting out. He wrapped a towel around his shoulders and sat down in one of the unoccupied white lawn chairs scattered around the pool deck. 

Even though it was his birthday, the celebration was for Memorial day more than it was for him. 

He sat there, on that white chair for some time. The hot sun was making him more lethargic and introspective than he would've liked considering his current state of secret keeping. 

At one point, he got up and grabbed a beer, much to the pleasure of his oft-cold father. 

“Drink up boy, you’re a man now. I’m real proud of you son.” He clapped his hand down on Dave’s bare shoulder before turning to his uncle. “Now only if he’d join the football team, then he’d make his old man  _ really  _ proud, eh John?” The two laughed. 

Dave shrugged his pinking shoulders and sipped some of the cold beer from the sweating can. 

It was a little too late to be joining the football team considering he had graduated from high school the year before and was now working as a mechanic for some distant family friend. He didn’t even like watching football, always leaving to sit outside and smoke when his father, uncles, and younger brother gathered in the living room during thanksgiving to watch the game. Even if he was technically going against his faith by smoking, he couldn’t care less. 

He didn’t really care that his father didn’t notice any of this stuff. Dave had been saving up money to leave their small town of Parkville, Missouri. He had been working hard for a solid year, not taking any sick days or vacation, often working more than not. He took Shabbat off, but he supposed that it was a requirement of his faith. His boss was starting to show some concern, but never asked any questions. He had gotten himself an old pickup truck. It was old and red and hardly running anymore, but Dave made it work. 

He polished off his beer before standing up, throwing the towel onto the chair and putting his t-shirt back on. He left the family at the pool, and walked home. Nobody noticed that he left. 

He put on an old jazz record (Louis Armstrong) and packed all of his stuff up in an old suitcase that probably belonged to his grandfather before he died in the second great war. The house was hot and he sweat through his shirt while he threw all of his worldly possessions in that little old suitcase. 

He stopped the record, putting it back in it’s sleeve before putting it back on the record rack. He went to the front porch and sat in the afternoon shade with the suitcase propped up next to him. He lit a cigarette and smoked it down before lighting another one. 

He had thought about running before, hell he had been working towards running away. But, now that he is actually doing it, the thought scares him. He doesn’t know where to go or who to stay with or what to see. He could head west, maybe hit California and see the west coast. He could head east, see New York maybe and hit the east coast. He could go down south to Louisiana, he could go up north and go to Montana and become a ranch hand. 

California was the farthest, but it sounded the nicest. Mind made up, he put out the cigarette and moved to his old truck. He put the old suitcase in the passenger seat and started the car, eager to leave now that he knew where he was going. 

.oOo.

**June 7, 1957**

The drive cross country was long, but Dave made it. 

He had no clue what he was going to do now that he was in the sunshine state, but he figured it wouldn’t be hard to find a job. 

He drove all the way to the ocean and sat in the sand, amazed by the vastness of the water. He felt small, insignificant. In a way, he was. Nobody out here knew him, and so if he died, he would die alone with nobody to care. Maybe that was the point of religion, to feel big when really you couldn’t be smaller. 

He kicked his shoes off into the sand and walked towards the open water. He kept walking until the water reached his waist and the waves pushed and pulled at him, tearing him apart and putting him back together again. The water was cold and the wind was strong. If he cried, nobody saw. 

When he finally got his wits about him, he left the cold water and back to his now sandy shoes. Sand clung to the wet cuffs of his pants legs. The wind feld cold on his wet body, but the weather was warm. He looked up at the sky and saw clouds rushing by. 

He grabbed his shoes and walked back to his truck. 

He drove around until he finally stopped at an orange grove not too far away from the beach where he had had his little existential freak out. Outside of the rather large grove, there was a farm boy about his age in a faded, open flannel and worn jeans who was sitting by an overflowing produce stand that featured mostly large ripe oranges, but also some other citrus and avocados.. The boy squinted as he walked toward him. 

“Y’all need any help with your farm?”

“I don’t reckon, but I’ll ask pa anyway, might have some chorin’ that requires extra hands. Why? You interested.”

“Reckon so.”

The boy got up and walked away a few feet before he started calling for his father. 

An older man in his 50’s came around from between the trees, likely haven been woken up from a nap and came grousing over to the stand. 

“Well boy, what you want?”

“I’m lookin’ for a job sir. I don’t have too much experience but I can fix up a car, and I can do manual labor. Got any need for it?”

“Let me think on it, what did you say your name was again, son?”

“I didn’t sir, my name’s Dave.”

“Got any place to stay?”

“No sir, just got in from Missouri.”

“Obvious from that accent a yours. Gotta leave that behind if you’re to work here.”

“Yes sir.”

“We got some room in the hay loft if you haven’t anywhere else to go.”

“Thank you, sir. Is there anything I can help you with to repay you?”

“Got some small jobs here and there if you really want to.”

“I would love to sir.”

“Alright then.”

The man coughed and turned his head to spit on the ground a few feet away. Then he walked up, shook Dave’s hand, and walked away, presumably to finish his nap. The farm boy was silent during the process, sitting on one of two stools in front of the produce stand. Dave turned and looked at him, asking for his guidance. The boy didn’t say anything, though he did tilt his head in a gesture that Dave figured meant he was invited to join the boy on the other stool. He did as such and felt at peace here in this orange grove. 

.oOo.

It was a few years later when the peace came to an end. He had been caught rolling around in the hay with the farm boy, Elijah, and had been promptly removed from the farm by one of the other farm employees. Again, with nowhere to go, Dave found himself at the beach. 

He had figured he would screw something up sooner or later, and couldn’t believe that his happiness had lasted that long. He had truly found a place in his heart for Elijah, they had grown into each other’s confidants. However, that place in his heart had shriveled and died when Elijah told his father not three minutes after he said he loved Dave, that he had been seduced by his evilness and was being forced into coupling with him. 

The stars had been bright on the beach, reflected in the darkness of the Pacific. The hour was late and so Dave found himself alone on the beach with naught more but his thoughts. 

It was 1965, he was almost 27. He shouldn’t be acting like a teenager anymore. He was a man for God’s sake. He brought a hand up to his eyes and massaged his temple as tears sprung to his eyes and his throat grew tight. He couldn’t help but laugh at the parallel of his time when he first came to California and cried in the ocean. He didn’t feel much like getting in the water this time around. 

So, with nowhere to go, and nothing holding him in any one place, he drifted around finding odd jobs to get him enough money for gas and food until the next job. He did this until 1967, when he couldn’t ignore the fact that there was a war on. So, with nothing else left for him in the United States, he signed up for the draft. 

.oOo.

**March 29 2019**

Klaus felt his heartbeat slow as his body grew colder. He couldn’t possibly imagine waking up anymore. 

He felt himself grow weaker and weaker until he finally slipped away. 

Then, there was nothing.

Then, there was something. 

Then, there was too much something. 

He felt hot, sweltering, sticky. Hotter than he could’ve ever been in Vietnam. Vietnam was a humid hot like soup, this hot was a dry one, like being baked in an oven set to broil. He opened his eyes and then grimaced as the sky burned his eyes it was so bright. His lips felt chapped and his mouth felt dry and his face felt crusty. Sand gathered in his eyebrows and eyelashes, and probably everywhere else. He felt like he was dying. 

“Ain’t you gonna get up boy?” a rough voice spoke from somewhere near him. He gingerly picked up his dry and swollen head and looked carefully around, grimacing when his neck twinged with every movement. 

A dirty man sat upon a dirty horse. His hat had holes in its brim, his shoes were nearly worn through, his clothes were greasy and torn. His hair was unkempt and his face was filthy with sweat and grime, not unlike the soldiers back in Vietnam. 

“You deaf? I asked if youse was gonna get up?” It was then that Klaus noticed the guns in the rotting holsters at his side. He pushed aside the choking dry heat and stood on uneven legs, tripping on rocks and dead brush with every move. “You know where you are boy?”

Klaus shook his head. He looked around and saw nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. There were no clouds, no cacti, no animals. The only thing besides rocks and dead brush was a mountain just barely peeking through a hazy horizon. 

“Yer dead, and so is your companion there.”

Klaus turned, not realizing there was somebody else. Dread made its home in his stomach and he tripped once more, falling to his knees as he saw the prone form of Dave lying sprawled out on the uneven desert terrain, looking as dead as Klaus felt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read my other Umbrella Academy fic, you will know how much I love cowboy god, so I am writing him again. Also, consistency? I hardly know her!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and sorry for the cliffhanger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus and Dave are dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd day in a row babey!

**Somewhere Outside of Time**

Dead. He was dead. Dave was dead? Did he let Dave die with him? He vaguely recalls opening the suitcase. Did he die in the present or the past?

He didn’t notice he wasn’t breathing, nor did he notice how much time had passed as he looked at Dave’s body. He didn’t have any wounds, and if not for the stillness and lack of breath, he would’ve thought him to be sleeping. 

“You gonna say somethin’? Usually y’all like to grouse and complain when you find out yer dead.”

  
  


Klaus shook his head, then dropped it on his chest.

“Why?” he asked, voice cracking at the end. 

“War.”

“Why is there war?”

“The good book says that he that lives by the sword shall perish by the sword.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Men are dying! Is there nothing you can do to stop it? Stop men from dying pointless deaths?”

“It makes no difference what you men think of war. War endures. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way.” 

Klaus lifted his head during the speech and found he could not pry his eyes away from his dead beloved. 

“So what you’re saying is that, even if we could find a way to be peaceful, we couldn’t?”

“Yes, It endures because young men love it and old men love it in them. Those that fought, those that did not.”

“That’s just your opinion. There is no way that everyone loves war. I don’t love war.”

He could hear the heavy steps of the tired horse clop closer to him until the man stopped it two feet away to Klaus’ left. 

“But you do like games don’tcha?” The horse sighed and whinnied, moving its hooves around impatiently. The man clicked his tongue and whispered something Klaus couldn’t make out. “Men are born for games. Nothing else. Every child knows that play is nobler than work. He knows too that the worth or merit of a game is not inherent in the game itself, but rather in the value of that which is put at hazard. Games of chance require a wager to have meaning at all. Games of sport involve the skill and strength of the opponents and the humiliation of defeat and the pride of victory are in themselves sufficient stake because they inhere in the worth of the principles and define them. But trial of chance or trial of worth all games aspire to the condition of war for here that which is wagered swallows up the game, players, all.”

“You’re crazy. You can’t be right. Why are you telling me this? To torment me?”

“No, just answering your question. War is the natural way of things. That is why there is war.”

The cowboy turned and spat. Klaus was so dehydrated, he didn’t think he could produce enough saliva to spit like the man. “What’s going to happen now?”

“Well, I reckon I’ll send you back.”

“Why? Why is anything happening? Why am I here? Why are you talking to me?” Klaus was growing hysterical.

“Shut yer damn mouth, son. I’ll tell you why goddammit. There are bigger things at play here. Bigger than you, bigger than me. Bigger than the whole gotdamn universe and everything inside of it. I have to send you back because that is what I am supposed to do.”

The horse dug its front hoof into the dirt and whinnied. “Do you really want to stay here anyway? In this wasteland? I’d’ve thought you woulda wanted to get the hell out of dodge.”

“Yes, I do. Please,” he begged. But what about Dave? He looked back at his dead companion, the love of his life. “But I can’t leave here unless Dave gets to come with me.” He reached forward and grabbed Dave’s limp hand. The grime on his hands mixing with the grime on Klaus’.

“Whatever, one soul leaving ain’t gonna do nothin’. ‘Sides, he ain’t supposed to die at that time anyhow. Well then, you got what you want. Get out of here, ‘fore I make you get outta here.”

Klaus gratefully leaned his head on top of Dave’s chest and went back to the nothingness that was.

.oOo.

**March 29, 2019**

“God Dammit!” Five shouted as the heart rate monitors continued to let out the flat-line noise. The flat, pronounced, never ending beep that had no alteration in its endlessness. 

They had been a moment too late. Mom had put them on the surgical tables and then they coded at the same time. Both had been pronounced legally dead two minutes ago. 

Diego, Allison, Luther, and Vanya had gone upstairs after Mom had given up trying to revive the two, now very dead men. 

It was not fair. His brother was not supposed to die. It was not in his calculations, it was not the same as the first time around. Something had changed. Something had been altered and Five thinks it has something to do with the dead man currently next to his brother. 

Five grabbed a metal tray from a side table and threw it across the room as it crashed against a wall. It clattered and echoed when it hit the cold tile floor. He heard someone come downstairs. It was Diego. 

Klaus had been dead for Four minutes. 

Five knew he would not be coming back. Four minutes is a long time to be dead. He would know, he has killed people before and watched as their bodies ran cold and their skin turned blue and waxy. He looked down at the floor next to the gurneys and saw the small pools of blood that dripped off of the cold metal surface. 

He flinched when Diego put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come on, Five. We shouldn’t be down here.” His voice was quiet with consideration, and when Five looked up, he saw that Diego’s eyes were glued on Klaus. 

“The hell we shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be dead! That wasn’t supposed to be a possibility!”

“Five.” Diego’s voice grew hard. “Klaus and that other guy are dead. There is not one thing that we could do to change that.”

“I could go back in time. I just need that damn suitcase and I can go back and prevent Klaus from dying.”

“We don’t even know how it happened! The only thing we know is that he and this guy were shot and we found them on top of each other at the bus station.”

“Then what do you suggest I do? Leave him to die?”

“He is already dead!”

They were both facing each other, breathing hard after their argument. Five’s chest felt tight and he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Guilt. 

Five felt guilty. It was his fault he didn’t keep track of Klaus and now Klaus was dead. 

He recalled what he had said earlier that morning, about writing Klaus out of the equation because he had likely been tortured and killed. He felt vomit rise up the back of his throat at the thought. How could he be so callous and uncaring towards somebody he braved the apocalypse to save? Had his ideals really become so skewed he forgot his original intention for stopping the apocalypse?

He put a hand on his forehead and let out a ragged breath. He opened his eyes to see a pitying look on Diego’s face. 

“Does he have any other friends that might need to know if he is dead? What about the John Doe? Friends or family that need to be notified?” Diego continued to stand there silently, looking at Klaus. He looked like he was searching for something. 

“Diego?” His brother simply shrugged in response. 

Five looked back at Klaus just in time to see a single heartbeat hit at the exact same time for both men. Klaus’ finger twitched and Five got closer, not caring that his shoes were now soaked with his blood.

Klaus opened his eyes slowly as his heart beat in rhythm to the man next to him, who was also slowly opening his eyes.

“Dave?” The question was whispered, cracked, but in the near silent room, the question of a dead man echoed round the walls. 

“Klaus?” The other man questioned. 

Five was a specter, a mere observer as the two men gingerly got up and embraced each other tightly. 

“Did we make it, Lucky?”

“I think we did Davey. I think we did.”

.oOo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know when I'm gonna post next, but it's gonna be soon. Hoped you liked the chapter, please comment what you would like to have happen next and I might take it into consideration for the story going onward. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Love is the Fairest of Them All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue and final chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo hoo. This whole quarantining business is really helping me look at and finish my WIPs. 
> 
> I'm finishing this bad boy once and for all. 
> 
> This chapter is the shortest of them all, but it is just an epilogue so it's not supposed to be long. 
> 
> I hope you liked the story, even if the period between updates was unbearable. 
> 
> Thank you to everybody who commented, kudosed, subscribed, and bookmarked this story. It really means a lot to me.

.oOo.

**July 8, 2019**

“Marry me.”

The words weren’t so much a question as they were a statement. Dave huffed fondly. 

“Are you asking or telling me?”

“Asking?”

“That’s what I thought.”

The sun shone in through the window and made its lazy way over the rumpled bedding of the queen they were currently sharing. Klaus lay naked with his head pillowed upon Dave’s right arm. Dave himself was laying sated on his side, free hand playing with Klaus’ vibrant curls. He too was naked. 

“So?”

“So what?”

“Will you marry me?” Klaus asked again. 

“Hmm. I’m gonna have to think about that.”

“What?”

Dave cracked a smile at Klaus’ response. 

“Relax, Baby. Of course I’ll marry you.” Klaus sighed, a smile creeping on his face as he closed his eyes and tucked his face into Dave’s chest. 

It was a little over four months since they came to the future together and also apparently died. 

These were two facts that Dave had thought long and hard about. 

He was in the future, in the year 2019. No one he knew was still alive. He guesses his siblings might have had kids of their own, but he didn’t really care. In fact, he felt sort of relieved at the fact that he would never again have the chance to see his family again, as unloving and uncaring as they all were. So yeah, as long as Klaus was here, he could reconcile with being “stuck” in the future. 

The dying part however had given him a greater pause. He didn’t remember anything about being dead, only knew about it from the strange people that Klaus was related to. When he asked in private, Klaus shared that he too had no recollection of being dead. The two shrugged and left the topic, hanging on to the gratefulness that they had survived Vietnam together. 

These two ponderings had taken up his first couple of weeks after waking up. The rest, though, that was just him and Klaus. 

The two found an apartment midtown with a lovely bay window in the front room. 

Now, in that front room, with the curtains open and the two lying down sated, Dave has never been happier. 

“You got a ring to go with that question?” Klaus opened his eyes in alarm. 

“No?”

Dave laughed. A deep thing that came from his belly and jostled around the man in his arms. 

“Only kidding.” 

He pulled Klaus in, jokingly smothering him against his chest as he rolled. Now, Klaus was on top of him. 

“Open the drawer of the nightstand.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

The skinnier man leaned over, bracing himself on Dave’s rib cage, making him wheeze. 

“Easy, lucky.”

The drawer was opened and a gasp was heard. 

“Davey?”

In his skinny hands, a small black box lay. 

“Will you marry me, Klaus, and make me the happiest man in history?”

Klaus teared up, a couple of drops landing below him on Dave. He shifted until they were both sat up, Klaus firmly in Dave’s lap. 

Dave clasped Klaus’ hand and grabbed the box from the other, opening it and presenting it to the man in front of him. 

“So?” He said, mirroring his same words earlier. 

“So what?” Klaus sobbed happily.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” He shouted, jumping into a hug that pushed Dave on his back. A firm kiss landed on his lips and he hungrily returned it. 

When Klaus came up for air, Dave grabbed his left hand and slipped the simple band on the third finger, on the ring finger. 

“I love you, Klaus Hargreeves.”

“I love you too, David Katz.”

.oOo.


End file.
